by Marie Force
Juliana turned to him. “Really?”
“I’ve had enough. I was sort of reaching that point before this case—and this one’s just worn me out. I’m so sick of dealing with the dregs of society. You finish one hideous case, and there’s another one right behind it. Just when you think you’ve seen everything, you confront some other example of how evil mankind can be. Young victims, old victims, kids, babies, I’ve seen them all.” He shook his head. “No one’s immune. And no matter how well we do our jobs, the victims are never entirely satisfied because their lives are still in ruins. It’s like what Monique said—having the bad guys in jail doesn’t always matter to the victims the way you think it will. The person they lost is still dead. They were still raped or assaulted or burglarized. They’re always afraid. For the rest of their lives they’re afraid.”
Mesmerized, Juliana hung on his every word.
All of a sudden he seemed to realize he had said more than he’d meant to. “So it might be time for a change.”
“But you’re so good at it. I remember when I told my co-worker Carol that I’d met you on the airplane. She’s Timmy Sargant’s cousin.” Juliana referred to one of the slain teenagers. “Carol said you’d been so good to her aunt and uncle. I didn’t know you very well yet, but even then I could picture how wonderful you would’ve been with them.”
“That’s nice to hear. I try to always remember I work for the people, especially those who’ve been victimized. I just worry I’ll start to become immune to it all, that I won’t have any reaction when I see a baby without a head or a rape victim beaten to within an inch of her life.”
“I don’t think you could ever become immune to those things. That’s just not who you are.”
“Well, nothing’s going to happen right away. I meant it when I told Rachelle’s parents that going after the people who attacked her will be my top priority once the trial is over.”
A photo of Officer Brown flashed onto the TV screen.
“Remember Scott laughing at my haircut?” Michael asked.
Juliana nodded. “That seems like years ago rather than weeks.”
For the first time they also showed the poisoned pizza being delivered on videotape that had finally been released to the media.
Juliana gasped when she saw the deliveryman’s face. “Oh God, Michael! That’s him!” she sputtered. “The guy who talked to me on the street, the same one I saw in Newport!”
Michael sat up. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Positive.”
Michael went outside to have a word with the cops. He came back in a few minutes later looking pale.
“What?” Juliana asked. “What did they say?”
“They’ve identified him as Roberto Escalada. He’s a hired gun.”
“What does that mean?”
“They were planning to kill me,” he said haltingly, “but he must’ve never gotten the chance. He even followed us to Newport.”
Juliana’s hand flew to her mouth as she broke down.
“Baby, if they catch him…”
The look on his face stopped her heart. “What? Michael…”
“You’ll have to pick him out of a lineup. You’re the only one who’s actually seen him.”
“How can that be? He delivered the pizza…”
“He delivered it to Scott. If he doesn’t recover—”
“No, no,” she whispered as it set in that if she was the only one who could identify a killer, she would be in the same situation Rachelle had been in.
Michael put his arms around her and dropped his head onto her shoulder. “I’ve dragged you into a freaking nightmare.”
Shell-shocked, Juliana said, “Maybe there’s someone else who saw him. There were other cops at the hotel, weren’t there?”
He looked at her with shattered eyes and shook his head. “They were asleep.”
“What about people at the hotel?”
“No one remembers seeing him.”
“But I didn’t see him at the hotel,” she argued, pulling free of his embrace to pace the room.
“You can tie him to me and the trial and thus to the Benedettis. The tape puts him at the hotel.”
“You were with me in Newport. You saw him, too.”
“I didn’t see his face.”
“Maybe they won’t find him.”
“Then he gets away with poisoning Rachelle and Scott.”
“Oh, Michael,” she said, sobbing.
He went to her. “No one will ever hurt you. Not as long as I have a breath left in me.”
“I’m scared.”
He brushed away the tears on her cheeks. “When I went outside I asked them what they knew about the guy on the tape. I didn’t tell them you recognized him.”
“Why not?”
“I won’t involve you unless I absolutely have to—unless there’s no other way. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
She nodded and rested against him as they absorbed yet another blow.
Michael went into caretaker mode that night. He grilled steaks and made salad for dinner, which he served with a bottle of wine he “borrowed” from Tom’s wine cellar. Juliana pushed the food around on her plate, and only when Michael urged her to eat did she make an attempt.
After dinner, he lit a dozen candles in the master bathroom and drew a bubble bath for her.
She was soaking in the big tub when he brought her another glass of wine.
“I could get used to this treatment.”
“That would be fine with me.” He leaned over to kiss her and then sat down next to the tub.
Extending a soapy hand to him, she laced her fingers through his and gave a tug.
He laughed. “You are not pulling me in there.”
“Come on.”
“Why don’t you come out here if you want to play?”
“Yeah?” she asked, realizing they hadn’t made love since Rachelle was attacked.
He pulled on her hand to encourage her out of the tub.
She stood up, covered with suds.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed.
“Michael! I’m all wet!”
“Perfect,” he said with a lecherous grin as he lowered himself down on top of her.
Laughing, she buried her hands in his hair and kissed him. When he came up for air, she brushed the suds off his face. “You’re overdressed.” Reaching for his now-damp sweater, she pulled it off.
He filled his hands with her breasts and dipped his head to feast on her. “I must’ve been a very naughty boy,” he sputtered against her breast. “I’m getting my mouth washed out with soap.”
“You’re the one who wanted to skip the whole towel portion of the bath,” she reminded him. Her breath got caught in her throat when he rolled her nipple between his teeth. “Michael,” she sighed, pushing him onto his back and undressing him. She kissed her way from his chest to his belly. Wrapping her hand around his erection, she stroked him.
He closed his eyes and released a long deep breath when she took him into her mouth. “Oh, God, Juliana,” he said with a shudder.
She drove him to the brink with a combination of lips and tongue and teasing teeth. Then she straddled him and took him in.
Rolling her hips back and forth, the sensations were so intense, so overwhelming that she bit her lip to keep from crying out. When he reached for her breasts, a jagged, breathless cry of complete surrender escaped from her parted lips.
“Juliana.” His voice choppy and hoarse with emotion, he slid his hands down to her hips and came with a great cry of his own.
She slumped down on top of him.
“Just when I think it can’t get any better,” he whispered, closing his arms tight around her.
Brushing her lips over his, she said, “It gets better every time.”
“If it gets any better, we’re apt to spontaneously combust.”
She laughed and rested her head on his chest to listen to the rapid beat of
his heart, reveling in the knowledge that only she had the power to do that to him.
Long after Michael fell asleep next to her, Juliana lay awake, afraid to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Roberto Escalada’s face. If he had tried to kill Rachelle, he could certainly come after her, too. The thought terrified her, and she was unable to control the trembling that shook her body.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” Michael asked, stifling a yawn.
“I’m scared.”
He pulled her tight against him. “I’m right here. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“He’s out there somewhere. He might even be outside right now, and we’d never know it.”
“There’re cops all over the place.”
“Rachelle had cops with her, too.”
“Do you know what I realized earlier?”
She turned to look at him. “What?”
He rested the palm of his hand on her face. “That if you hadn’t moved in when you did and had the confrontation on the street with Escalada, I never would’ve asked for police protection. I’d probably be dead by now without you.”
Her eyes burned with tears. “I came so close to leaving that day.”
Leaning over to kiss her, he said, “I’m so glad you stayed, for many, many reasons, but I hate that I’ve put you in so much danger.”
“There’s one thing I still don’t understand.”
He yawned again. “What’s that?”
“Why would they want to kill you? I mean, I know they see you as the guy who’s single-handedly trying to put them in jail, but they have to know someone else would take over the case if they killed you. So why bother?”
“Well, no one else knows the case the way I do, so they’d have a definite advantage with a new prosecutor. They might’ve also been aiming to bring about a mistrial.”
“But why? They’re already in jail, so what’s in it for them to delay it? Wouldn’t it be better for them to get it over with and maybe get off and out of jail sooner?”
“There’s almost no way they’re going to get off. Even without Rachelle, the case is very strong. They know that.”
“I still don’t get it.”
Michael thought about that for a moment. “Unless…”
“What?”
He sat up. “Unless they’re planning something big and needed to buy some time to get their shit together.” Getting up, he tugged on his jeans.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to call Tom. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter 25
Michael’s late-night phone call to Tom Houlihan set off a full search of the city jail where the Benedettis were being held during the trial. Both their cells were tossed, all the common areas were torn apart, drains were even removed from shower stalls, but nothing suspicious was found. The search succeeded only in further shredding Michael’s already frazzled nerves.
He couldn’t figure out what the defendants might be up to. Since the rock sailed through the window at his house, the judge had suspended their visitation rights, forbidden the brothers to have any contact with each other in jail, and revoked their phone and mail privileges. If they were planning something, Michael had no idea how they were managing to do it.
He spent most of the morning on the phone with his office, discussing their trial strategy in light of the week’s developments. Thankfully, they had videotaped Rachelle’s sworn statement, and Michael planned to introduce it as evidence. The defense would object on the grounds that they couldn’t cross-examine videotape, but because he videotaped her under oath with a court reporter taking a transcript, Michael was going to try it.
While Michael was upstairs on the phone, Juliana went through the mail she picked up earlier in the week at her house. She paid the bills from the joint account she shared with Jeremy and sorted out the junk mail until only his two letters sat unopened on her lap.
All morning she had tried not to think about what might be ahead for her if she had to identify Rachelle’s killer. The girl was headed for the witness protection program. Juliana wondered if that’s what would happen to her if she had to identify and testify against Escalada. She let her mind wander to the possibility that she could end up living anonymously in some strange place.
The idea wasn’t without benefits—no more dealings with her dysfunctional family and a whole new life where no one knew her. Naturally, she wondered who would be with her in this fictional scenario. Did either of the two men in her life love her enough to give up their whole world to keep her safe? If right now, today, she had to pick one of them to accompany her into anonymity, which one would she choose? The answer came to her without a moment’s hesitation. Michael. She would choose Michael.
A feeling of peace settled over her as she understood that at some point during the last few weeks, she had made a decision. Jeremy was her past. Michael was her future. He had asked her to marry him, and in the next few weeks, after she ended her relationship with Jeremy for good, she would be able to say yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Michael.
She wanted to run upstairs and tell him, but she had things to resolve before she could do that, and so did he. If Paige really was pregnant, he would have to deal with it before much longer. He’d have a child with another woman. They would handle that somehow. After everything they had already been through together, there was no doubt in Juliana’s mind they would get through that, too. He didn’t love Paige anymore, but he would love their child, and Juliana would give him her full support.
Energized by her decision, she felt ready to read Jeremy’s letters and to keep them in proper perspective. She checked the postmarks to see which one came first and opened it. He had written it on his company’s letterhead.
[LTR]
Dear Jule,
I’m sitting here at work and I’m supposed to be figuring out why two of my circuits are down, but all I can think about is you. I’m wondering what you’re doing right now. It’s Tuesday morning, so I’m picturing you at the salon making someone beautiful. You’ve always been so good at that. Remember when we were in high school and you gave everyone haircuts all the time? We’d end up at someone’s house after a football game. When I’d go looking for you, you’d usually be in the bathroom giving one of our friends a trim. That was even before you’d been to school for it!
I like thinking back to those days, when we first knew each other and all we thought about was finding time to be alone together. I remember looking for you in the stands during football games. Sometimes thinking about being with you after the game would be so distracting I’d forget what I was supposed to be doing on the field. The only times I really screwed up playing football were because of you—so there’s something you never knew! Even back then, you had such an ability to invade my thoughts and distract me. Ten years later, nothing’s changed, babe. Here I am, all grown up with a real job, but I’m at work thinking about the same girl who drove me crazy when I was playing high school football. How many guys can say that?
The other day I was driving home and I heard that Peter Gabriel song we’ve always loved. “Your Eyes.” He says he’s complete when he can see her eyes. It’s so true—I never realized just how true it was until you weren’t here anymore. I keep reminding myself this is temporary, but I worry that maybe it’s not, that maybe I hurt you so badly, nothing I do will ever fix it.
I’ve had far too much time to think over the last month. I think about all the tough stuff we dealt with when your parents were still together. Like the night they had that big fight and the neighbors called the cops. I can still remember the way you sounded when you called and asked me to come get you. I took you home with me, and you were so upset that my mother didn’t even care that you slept with me in my room. It was the first night we ever slept in the same bed. My mother has always loved you, Jule. She’s been after me for years to marry you. I should’ve listened to her. If I had I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now with you. Anyway, I remember waking up w
ith you that next morning and being so thankful you’d called me when you needed me. I’ve always hated how your family treats you like their own personal Cinderella, but you know I could write another whole letter on that subject!
Well, I’d better get back to work. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you and hoping we can find our way through this. Nothing in my world makes sense without you by my side. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you. I love you,
Jeremy
PS—Are you okay for money? If you need any, you know where it is. There’s plenty in the Bank of America account. What’s mine is yours.
[END LTR]
Juliana wiped away the tears that flowed as she read his heartfelt letter. She was almost reluctant to read the second one, but she opened it because she promised him she would.
[LTR]
Dear Jule,
I had an awful day today. I wish I could call you and tell you about it the way I used to. I can’t seem to do anything but wish I was with you, so of course I’m screwing stuff up at work. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get fired before this separation of ours is over. If they didn’t need me so badly to finish this stupid job down here, they probably would’ve already fired me. Whatever. I don’t even care anymore. All I care about is fixing what’s happened between us.
I’m finding I have an amazing ability to torture myself with memories. Do you know what I can’t seem to stop thinking about? Making love with you. Remember how scared we were the first time? It was pretty bad, huh? But we got better at it, didn’t we? Sometimes I think I’ll go mad craving your soft skin, or thinking about the way it feels to be inside you, and that sound you make way in the back of your throat… Okay, I’ve got to stop this before I seriously go insane. I can’t believe I thought for even one second that I could do that with someone else… I’m sorry. You’re the only one for me. You always have been, and you always will be. Don’t stop loving me, Jule. I don’t think I’d survive it.
I love you.